


Dragons and Daedra

by ApostateMage



Series: Skyrim saga [2]
Category: Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim
Genre: A second oblivion crisis, Blood and Violence, But he's a dumb, Casual racism (In skyrim? No way), I will be making things up. I'm not a huge lore buff. plz forgive, M/M, Mage hate, Manipulation, Morally Grey Characters, Mostly Gay up in here, Multi, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Sexual Situations, Tags altered as they are added, Talk of past trama, The Dragonborn means well, War, dragons!, mentions of past rape
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-04
Updated: 2020-11-03
Packaged: 2021-03-08 17:13:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,973
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27380245
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ApostateMage/pseuds/ApostateMage
Summary: So here he was, sitting in the temple of Talos in Markarth, his life in ruins but a hope for his future. He was the Dragonborn. Maybe he'd actually go see those old men on the mountain. Maybe he'd help with this whole hair brained idea to save the world. Maybe he'd join the Stormcloaks and fight for something he could believe in.
Relationships: Male Dovahkiin | Dragonborn/Original Male Character(s), More to be added - Relationship, OC / OC - Relationship, Vilkas (Elder Scrolls)/Original Male Character
Series: Skyrim saga [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/71405
Comments: 3
Kudos: 4





	Dragons and Daedra

**Author's Note:**

> So yeah. It's been a super long time. I had so much of this story and then my hard drive fried. I lost everything! Then I stopped playing and lost interest. 
> 
> Back to it now. Posting on election night so I don't lose my damn mind. 
> 
> Now, I will be adding lots of new tags as chapters release. I'm also making so much up. Like, sooo much. I'm trying to put some new twists in the canon story line. Some may not approve of my pairing choices, and that is perfectly fine. If it's not your thing, feel free to move on to another story. My grammar is not the best, this is not beta'd, and in between work and my family, my update schedule is near non-existent. I will do my best.
> 
> This is a continuation from part 1, Wolves and Magic. You don not need to read the first to understand this one, but it certainly helps.

Frey Greystorm was at wits end. In the short time that he'd returned to his native Homeland, his life had been flipped upside down irreversibly. He sat in a dusty temple with a shrine to Talos in Markarth, head in his hands, trying to soothe the headache that ravaged his brain. He just wanted to find his sister, who may or may not be alive. He needed that knowledge to be able to move on. If she lived, he'd care for her. If she was gone, he had some gold in his pocket and a home now, with the blessing of the Jarl of Whiterun. That was still a mind fuck. He was a Thane now. Hardly a month into his return, and he'd already involved himself in some serious shit.

Then again, a fucking Dragon had attacked Helgen and burned the place to the mother fucking ground. He escaped public execution for that, but innocent people had died. His own morals kept him working for the people of Riverwood and Whiterun; instead of running off straight to Markarth for rumors of his lost sister. Absorbing a Dragon soul had not been in the list of things that Frey had thought possible; nor the ability to use the voice. His throat still burned from the first time it erupted from his throat.

He was Dragonborn. A Dovahkiin. A thing of myth and legend and he had a real hard time fucking processing it. His father would tell him myths and legends about Skyrim, and about the proud history of their people. Kahilda, Darm, and himself had been raised on those tales. He remembered being in awe of those stories, dreaming of dragons and valiant warriors when he finally managed to calm himself enough to sleep.

He'd heard the call of the Grey Beards; Hell, half of Skyrim heard it. The Jarl had urged him to go to them. They could help him understand his new power and what was expected of him. Frey had nodded obediently, but his mind was elsewhere. He'd declined to stay and meet the Harbinger of the guild of Companions, and quickly made his way out of town. To the Jarl, he must have seemed eager to comply with the Grey Beards' summons of him. In reality, he was heading to Markarth. He'd put off looking for his sister for too long. He was already over two years behind her last message.

He didn't expect Markarth to be such a mess.

Apparently, there had been an uprising of Foresworn, that were mysteriously put down quickly, and quietly. The hall of the dead had apparently been desecrated, and then that too, mysteriously fixed itself. On his way to see the Thane, Frey passed a Vigilant of Stendarr outside an old abandoned home. He pressed Frey for assistance, but Frey walked past him with a muttered apology. His sister was the first thing on his mind right now.

The Jarl was suspicious as well. He smiled easy enough and welcomed Frey in...but he seemed off. His fine clothes fit him ill, and he looked like bathing and proper hygiene just recently came into his life after years of neglect. But, and most importantly, he had heard of Kahilda Greystorm.

“Beautiful young thing. Stormcloak and War maiden. Looks just like you.”

Frey had smiled kindly, but the whole situation felt off. His body tense, like he was being watched from unknown corners. “Thank you, Jarl...Igmund, was it?”

“Yes. Yes indeed.”

He'd summoned a very scared looking servant, and had him deliver a large stack of records to the Jarl's desk. Frey watched the frightened clerk stumble away as soon as he was dismissed, nearly tripping over himself to get away from them. Frey felt uneasy. Had word of what he was travel so far, so fast? He was nothing to be scared of. Or maybe it had nothing to do with him at all.

“I remember her.” The Jarl smiled wistfully. “Her and her Stormcloak husband were sent to Cidhna mine for crimes against the Empire.”

Kahilda married? That was good news. She had mentioned in one of her letters that she had met someone. “Who sent her there? You?”

“Wh- no! It wasn't me.”

“Wouldn't you as Jarl have a say?”

“I..well, I wasn't the Jarl then.”

Frey blinked, feeling off. “It was my understanding that Jarl Igmund had run Markarth for years. My sister has been missing for only a few years.”

He swears he could have heard the Jarl sweat. “Ah. Well. That's because of my father. I'm named after him and took over after he passed away last year.”

Frey eyed him warily. “You're father must have been a relic. You, yourself look old enough to be someone's grandfather.”

“Yes, you see. Men in my family live very long lives! I thought my dad would never die, so I could get my inheritance! You know what I mean?” He laughed and stopped with an awkward cough when Frey stared at him deadpanned. “Ah yes, but your sister. What is it I can help with?”

“Is she still in the mine?”

“No.” The Jarl said without even looking at the records on the desk. “There is an old saying, that no one escapes Cidhna mine... but she and her husband were bargained for. Probably from Stormcloaks in power. I didn't ask.”

“So where are they now?” Frey pressed, fighting the urge to grit his teeth.

This time the Jarl did look down at the papers and file through them before answering. “She and her family were shipped east, destination being Windhelm, but according to these records, the carriage never made it there.”

Frey ripped the file from the old man to read himself, and the Jarl wisely backed off. “Her family.” Frey echoed. “The file says her name, plus three. Who else was with her?”

“Her husband, as I've said before. Believe his name is Sven. Took her last name, and I believe her two children.”

Frey almost wanted to collapse. His sister had a life, a husband and children. He'd missed out on all of it. He'd been home, stuck to his old life, grieving lost friendship and comforting an unstable mother. He could have been here with Kahilda if he'd only been a bit more selfish. He could have watched her get married, been an uncle to her children, and a friend to her husband. His heart sank as he read more. The carriage carrying them had been attacked. The driver had been mauled and half delirious when he was recovered. All he could say is that monsters had attacked and everyone but himself was taken. The file says he died soon after.

His sister. Her husband. Her children. They were probably all dead. His hand tensed on the page as if to tear it to pieces, but found he couldn't. He'd never met Sven. He would never know the names or faces of his sister's children. He'd never see Kahilda again. His father, his mother, his brother Darm, Kahilda and her family... Everyone else who shared his blood had all passed away, leaving him as the sole Greywind.

Frey was truly alone.

He remembers he'd stormed out of there with a muttered thanks, ignoring the shady Jarl and all the suspicious behavior around him. He didn't care about Markarth and its problems right now. He took the file with him and no one stopped him.

The city streets looked empty as he left. Not a soul wandered the streets, save for a few guards. The Vigilant Brother was also missing. At the moment, Frey couldn't bring himself to care. He looked for refuge in the only place he knew he could. The Temple.

Now here he sat, in a temple of an abolished God, in a shady city filled with shady people. He wanted to wake up. To have this whole journey to Skyrim be just a fever dream he'd wake from. He wanted to wake up to his old home in Daggerfall, surrounded by his worried family and his best friend.

_Vincent._

Even he was gone. There was no home to go back to; he sold it and most of his possessions to afford to get here. His family was probably all dead, his best friend had went missing years ago, and Frey had nothing left.

_'Maybe that wasn't true'_ , he thought to himself, trying to find any type of light in this. He took a deep breath and thought hard, pushing aside the negative and digging for the positive. He had a home here now. He was the Thane of a great city. He had a House Carl, whom he left behind to guard the place, and the respect of the city and town of Whiterun and Riverwood.

There was the Stromcloaks....and the rebellion. He could continue to serve the cause his sister had loved. He had an in already if he wanted it. Ralof, who helped Frey escape the madness of Helgen, was an avid believer of the Stormcloak rebellion and even quickly introduced Frey to the leader, Ulfric, while they dodged dragon fire.

Ralof had proved himself a capable warrior and a good companion. He was easy to smile, easy to laugh and his eyes seemed bright and fierce. He'd led him to Riverwood, where his sister Gerdur ran the mill. He'd watched Ralof play with his nephew Frodnar with fondness; although now he felt a bit bitter. He stayed the night in Gerdur's home. They set a room up for him and Ralof in the basement. They spoke softly into the night of their plans. Frey, not yet knowing of his sister's fate and what his own fate had in store for him, had told Ralof of his plans to head to Markarth after he warned the Jarl about the dragon. He told Ralof about his past, about his best friend and his family, feeling almost relived to be telling someone else.

“That friend of yours, Vincent. Is he back in High Rock waiting for you?”

“No.” Frey had said with a soft frown. “He and his kid sister went missing almost ten years ago now? Or is it eleven? I'm not sure on the time, but he's been gone for a really long time.”

“He sounds special to you.”

“He was.” Frey sighed. “He was the only one I could talk to. _Really_ talk to. I told him everything when we were kids. We were as close as two young boys could get.”

“Was he just your friend?” Ralof asked softy. “Was there something more there?”

Frey sighed. Age had brought him wisdom. “There may have been. I was young, stupid, blind...” It had been so obvious now, but he'd truly been a complete idiot back then. “I'm pretty sure Vincent had a crush on me, but at the time I thought it was just friendship. I just thought him a recluse that didn't want a woman to replace his sister in his heart. It never occurred to me when I was young that he just... _didn't_ find women attractive.”

“You do though?”

“Yeah.” Frey thought the question odd only for a moment. “I like women, yes...but men are okay too.”

“Did you love him too?”

Frey thought for a moment. “Back then? I loved him yes, but as a friend. I thought he was cute, but I was more interested in the chasing of women then actual matters of the heart.”

“I had a best friend too.” Ralof cleared his throat. “We were inseparable as kids. Always getting into mischief and driving our parents crazy. I was like you too. Young, stupid...and blind.” He smiled broadly, putting an arm under his head as he reclined against his pillow. “I became sweet on a girl from Helgen. I put him to the side as I chased her skirt, not realizing I was hurting him until it was too late.”

“He liked you?”

“I know he did. After anyway.”

“What'd you do about it?”

Ralof sighed. “It...was too late. We'd fooled around with each other in our boyhood. Experimenting, stuff of that nature. I never knew until I was older and bitter, that it had meant something to him; That deep down it had meant something to me. Then this war happened...and he would not see reason. He fights against his own people now.”

“Hadvar.” Frey filled in the space easily. He still remembered the fire in his eyes when Hadvar snarled at the pair of them in the burning ruins of Helgen. There was anger, betrayal, sadness...

“Yes.” There was regret in Ralof's voice. Neither of them knew if Hadvar lived through the destruction of Helgen. So many people died. It was most likely that Hadvar had perished, just like everyone else. They both knew it as silence crept in over them.

They spoke no more about it.

Late into that night however, Ralof woke him up by crawling into the same bed and touching him with an intense need. Frey welcomed his touch easily, and did not push him away. It had been too long since someone touched him and Ralof was not ugly by any standard or stretch. Ralof let him inside and helped Frey find pleasure in his tight, clenching heat. They did not kiss, nor mark each other more than necessary. They both had long journey's ahead and could not afford to ache. It was pleasure, and meant nothing.

In the morning, they spoke nothing of it, nor acted any differently. They met at the town limits, away from prying eyes. They leaned in close, kissed the other's amulet of Talos, worn under clothes and hidden away, then parted ways. It was enough of a promise to meet again someday.

So here he was, sitting in the temple of Talos in Markarth, his life in ruins but a hope for his future. He was the Dragonborn. Maybe he'd actually go see those old men on the mountain. Maybe he'd help with this whole hair brained idea to save the world. Maybe he'd join the Stormcloaks and fight for something he could believe in.

Skyrim deserved to be free. It was his lost sister's wish. He would see it through or die trying. He stood, filled with new resolve. He made a vow to always ask for her in every town, in every city, even if the hope was lost. Maybe he'd even see her again someday if the Gods were kind. She was only missing. Not confirmed dead. There was hope.

He headed to the inn to grab one last cup of mead before he put Markarth behind him. The air of Markarth chilled, but still as he walked; his boots echoing off the stone. A flash of red caught his attention as he made it to the center square. Two people stood by the old abandoned house. They were cloaked, and seemingly having a heated conversation. Frey could not make out the words, just the raise of an older man's voice. They both quickly went into the house, the door slamming with a finality behind it, and Frey's mind wandered. Where had the Vigilant Brother gone? Who were those two? Where had that flash of red that drew his eye, go off to?

In the end, Frey decided it wasn't any of his business and he walked into the silver blood inn, instead to get that glass of mead he wanted. Inside, it was at least warm and cozy lit. Welcoming. Frey appreciated it. An older man and woman were having a verbal argument behind the counter, again, hushed and secretive. They seemed to clam up when they noticed him stepping in, the woman putting on a big smile and gesturing to a seat.

“Welcome traveler! You must be tired. Can we get you a room for the night?”

Frey sat, but he noticed all the patrons seemed to take an interest in his presence. Weird. “I won't be staying the night, good woman, but I would love a cup of mead if you could.”

“Oh! So polite. Unlike that husband and son of mine. So handsome too! You're mother must be so proud of a boy like you.” She rambled quickly and Frey took in a note of nervousness to her tone. “I'll go get that for you.”

She handed him his glass and tried to make decent small talk. _“I have a daughter that's a pretty gem.” “Are you married? No? What a shame that is!” “If I was ten years younger...”_

Frey listened and smiled, polite in answering her but speaking no more than necessary. The feeling of unease had faded, but the suspicion that something wasn't right stayed with him. This city, the people, the chill in the air, everything seemed....unnatural. It wasn't like Riverwood or Whiterun. This place was like a void; devoid of life, even though people walked and breathed. Her husband behind the counter seemed tense, his shoulders raised defensibly as he washed the mead flagons. A younger man, Frey assumed was her son, was sweeping the floor, doing his best, and failing, to not look in his direction. The Patrons had gone back to their cups, but they now spoke in hushed whispers; leaning in close as to not be overheard.

Maybe he should have just left.

The door swung open with a harsh sound, stopping the old woman mid sentence. All eyes shot in that direction, as cold air rushed in past the cloaked figure in the door. They strode in, heeled shoes echoing dully on the wooden floor as they walked past other patrons, right up to the front counter; standing right beside where Frey was seated.

Frey glanced at the stranger, seeing it was a young man up close. The young man pulled down his hood...and he might as well have been a ghost from his past. He had violent red hair, _his_ red hair, and sharp brown eyes that almost seemed red in the light. By the Gods, he could almost be his sibling. The strength of his jaw was different, his eyes the wrong color, his nose slightly stronger, and he was defiantly taller than Frey's long lost friend, but this young man was a dead ringer for Vincent Renalt.

The stranger pulled his long, red braid, from the confines of his hood and pulled out a chair to sit. Frey glanced at the old woman, and found her looking wide eyed, her lips curled like she just ate bad fish. The stranger glanced at her, and Frey could feel the frigid bite of his stare.

“An Ale, if you would.” His tone was firm. It wasn't a question, even though it had been phrased with false politeness. His voice was also deeper than Frey would have imagined it.

The woman bowed her head in submission instantly. “Yes, sir! Of course!” She almost tripped over herself to get the bottle for him, opening it and laying it on the table. She wrung her wrinkled hands together nervously as he took a sip, found it satisfactory and waved her off with a swift gesture of his hand. She seemed eager to move away, making a quick excuse that she needed to clean and to shout if she was needed.

“I've not seen your face here before.” The man turned in Frey's direction, his dark eyes softening slightly as they fell upon him. Interest clear. “I'd remember a man that looks like you.”

“And how do I look?”

“Like you don't roll around in shit.” His lips curled up, showing some light on his otherwise severe expression. “Like you're not from this shit hole.”

Frey couldn't help the small smile that came to his face. He almost felt compelled to talk to this man. He was different than anyone else he'd met here, and his resemblance to Frey's oldest friend helped ease him. “No offense stranger, but neither do you.”

“You'd be right. I'm not a native.” He picked up his ale, pressing it to his lips and tilting his head back to drink. It struck Frey suddenly, that this man was drop dead gorgeous. Despite this man's frosty demeanor, he was unfairly attractive. Both manly and pretty at the same time, lashes long, cheekbones high, lips full, and his fingers slender. He looked like he'd be soft to hold, smooth skin, and warm enough to keep a bed nice and comforting. Frey almost scoffed. I'd been less than two weeks since he laid with Ralof and yet he still felt himself suddenly aching. Ralof had been a welcome comfort despite his hard edges and even harder muscle. This man was nothing like Ralof, that Frey could tell right away.

“What brings you to Markarth?” Frey asked, feeling compelled to talk to him, and test his luck.

“Family matter.” The stranger said after a pause. “My father had unfinished business that he sent me to attend.”

“Oh. You were outside the old abandoned house...with an older gentlemen.” It came to Frey suddenly. The flash of red, the black cloak; this was him. One of the two figures outside the abandoned house that the Vigilant Brother had been harping about. What was he saying again? Frey had been in such a rush he hadn't actually stopped and listened.

The stranger looked surprised for a moment, then his lips curled into something more coy. Frey decided he liked the look on his face. “Why yes. That property belongs to my father.”

“Where's your companion?”

“That old man?” The stranger scoffed. “He had business with my father. They are working it out as we speak. Nasty old geezer. Really needs to show some respect.”

“If he had qualms with your father, then he shouldn't take it out on you, right? I heard him yelling.”

“...You heard him?”

“Not what he was saying, no. Just his raised voice.”

“Ah, yes. The old man sure does like to do that.”

“My old man was very similar. Always yelling at me and my siblings for things we couldn't control. He needed somewhere to direct his anger and we were good targets. Maybe it's an elderly thing.” Frey passed his mug between his hands. He didn't know why he was sharing this with a total stranger, especially when he'd been so quiet with the old woman.

' _Because he's young, attractive and you want to bed him'_ , the treacherous voice inside his head taunted.

The stranger laughed, and Frey decided he really liked that noise. “I'll drink to that.” They clinked their respective drinks together and took a long sip. Reddish eyes peered intently into Frey's green hues, with a sparkle of mirth in them, making Frey feel warm inside. “What is your name?”

“Frey.” He spoke without thinking, turning in his seat more to face the beauty before him. “And you are..?”

“Kai.”

“Kai.” Frey rolled the name around on his tongue. “Sounds foreign.”

“It is. I'm not naively from Skyrim.”

“Am I too bold as to assume you're from High Rock? You are a Breton.”

  
  
Kai's lips curled up in amusement. “You are bold, but I'll indulge you. Yes. I was born in High Rock but I was not raised there. And yourself? If I may be bold?”

Frey laughed softly. “I was born here, in Skyrim. I couldn't tell you where, because we moved shortly after I was born. Lived most of my life in Daggerfall. Came here about a month ago.”

“What brought you home to Skyrim?”

“I'm...” Frey only hesitated for a moment and he wasn't sure why he hesitated at all. “I'm looking for my sister. She came back before me and had been missing for awhile now.”

“Ah. My condolences.”

“It's okay. Not a dead end entirely, but she isn't here.”

Kai nodded, folding his legs, and pulling the robe up to be more comfortable. He wore boots up past his knee, the dark, material hugging his legs like leather, making his legs appear slim and long. He hooked his ankle around Frey's, and there was no mistake in his intention. It was done too deliberately, and Frey found he didn't mind in the slightest. So Frey put a hand on his knee, letting a charming grin come to his handsome face when the hand was not pushed away. He rubbed his thumb in a soft circle, taking in the cold feeling of the boot, surprised when it felt more like metal then leather. He heel on these things looked wicked and sharp too. Not your average foot wear. Kai was something very different.

“Do you have a place to spend the night?” Frey asked softly.

Kai seemed to consider him for a moment, his face more calm and relaxed; losing a lot of the initial severity that he'd walked in with. “Actually, I would ask for your help in a matter, if you would listen?”

“I'm all ears.”

“Splendid.” Kai leaned in a bit. “I have to travel toward Dawnstar. I could use a strong arm to keep me safe on the road.”

“You live up there?”

“No.” Kai grew somber for a moment. “I need to meet my fiancé. I told him I'd meet him half way.”

_**Oh.**_ Frey went to remove his hand but Kai grasped it and kept it where it was. In fact, he pressed it more firmly up his thigh, where Frey could feel bare flesh. What the hell was this guy wearing under that cloak? He didn't complain about the feel of Kai's warm, inviting skin against his palm, but those words made him feel guilty.

“You have an intended.”

“I do.” Kai confirmed.

“And yet you're...” He gestured between them with his spare hand and Kai gave him an amused smile.

“Yes. You see, Frey, my fiancé and I are looking for a third tonight. If you take me safely to him, we'll see that you're paid well, in both coin and company... if that suits your fancy.”

“Your man doesn't mind?”

“No, of course not. He's quite keen on the idea really. We used to have a dedicated third, but he was unjustly taken from us.” Frey sees a brief moment of sadness in those dark pools before he blinks, and it's gone.

Frey relaxes slightly, letting his fingers press more intimately against the skin in his hand. “Is he as cute as you?”

Kai laughs, and swats playfully at his arm. “He's handsome. You'll like him. He'll take very good care of us tonight Frey. He always does.”

Well, Frey had never been with two at once but he was sold on the idea. “Very well. I'll keep you safe.”

“Knew I could count on you. You are different.”

Frey took his hand back and placed enough coin on the table to pay for both their drinks. He then stood, holding out a hand for Kai to take, which the smaller man did without hesitation. “Shall we then?”

“Of course.”

Frey didn't get to far from the counter. The old woman seized his wrist as he was about to leave, squeezing tightly, her knuckles white and tensed. “Wait!”

“Did I not pay enough?” Frey asked, turning his attention back to her, only to regret it. Her eyes were wide, as if she'd seen something terrifying. Sweat ran down her forehead and Frey could feel her hand tremble, despite her death grip on him. He could feel Kai's fingers lace with his other hand, firm and comforting. “Ma'am? Are you alright?”

“Y-Yes. Of course I am fine... I only meant to tell you that the roads are not safe at night. Y-You should get a room. Stay the night and head out in the morning.”

“There is another three hours before dusk, old woman.” Kai spoke firmly, his fingers tightening around Frey's. “We will be fine. I have faith in my new friend here.”

“Stay.” She whispered harshly to Frey, her lips beginning to tremble. “It is not safe.”

“We will be fine, good woman. It is okay.” Frey gently pulled his hand back, surprised she let go from the grip she'd had only moments before.

“B-But-!”

“He said, no.” Kai spoke firmly, pulling Frey closer to his body and hooking his free hand through the loop made by Frey's arm.

The woman looked down as if she was going to vomit. Something in the back of Frey's mind told him to take her up on the offer. Leave the beauty behind and head back toward Whiterun in the morning, colder and alone during the night. It was like that impulse in your brain that told you something nearby was dangerous. “Are you sick? Maybe you should sit down?”

“Yes, Frabbi.” Kai spoke soothingly, as if comforting a wounded animal. Frey watched the old woman turn paler by the second. “Get your husband Kleppr to take over for you? Or one of your precious children. I'm sure they'd be glad to help while you sat down.”

“Excuse me.” She said in a rush and ran off toward the back room, not even glancing backwards at them in her retreat.

Kai made a noise of sympathy and gently pulled on Frey's arm. “Poor old thing.” He leaned in as if to conspiratorially whisper. “Good thing you never ate the food here. She or the other patrons are always sick after trying some. Made that mistake myself first night I was here.”

Frey laughed it off but his guard rose up. Something about that whole exchange set him back into a sense of unease. He allowed himself to be pulled out of the inn and out of the town gates, the guards barely regarding them as they passed. “You've been in Markarth for awhile? You seemed familiar with the innkeeper and her family.”

“Ah yes.” Kai pulled his hood back up with his free hand, as if to fight against the northern chill. “I've been up and around here for about a month now. Stayed there for a week. Got to know the staff.”

“She seemed scared.” Frey remarked as they left the city behind them and started up the narrow road into the mountains.

“Ah, yes. Poor thing. Someone was murdered in the market square a few weeks ago. I had actually just got to town when the whole affair happened. Have you heard about the Forsworn uprising?”

“Yeah. I heard rumors of it starting and then getting put down right away.”

“The Jarl and his men do good work. Put an end to it quickly but the people still live in fear. The Forsworn assailant was dressed normally you see. Like a civilian. She'd always been paranoid but I was told by her son that it sent her over the edge. She jumps at shadows now. Doesn't trust easy anymore.”

Frey shrugged. “She seemed to trust me just fine.”

He watched Kai roll his eyes. “You're attractive and young. Of course she liked you.” He tightened his grip on Frey's arm and pressed his body closer. Frey could feel the inviting heat of his body even through the cloak. “Then there was the whole hall of the dead fiasco, making everyone even more paranoid.”

“I'd heard it been desecrated.”

“That's a real nice way of dressing up a piece of shit. The truth is not so pretty.”

“And that is?”

“They were eaten.”

“...who-?”

“The dead, Frey. Someone was sneaking into the hall and eating the dead.”

Even Frey felt a bit sick. “Cannibals?!”

“Apparently. I was away from the city for that incident at least. A couple of them, all Markarth citizens. The Jarl put a stop to it too, but again, they had lived there for years. The inn catered to them for years. She knew them by name. Easy to become paranoid that way.”

“This city is insane!”

“You got that right.” Kai sighed, his head resting on Frey's shoulder as they strolled down the path leading away from Markarth. “I'm glad to be gone from this place. Finally.”

They walked quietly for the most part, reading the signs that would lead them to Dawnstar and Frey thoroughly enjoyed the sway of Kai's body so close to his. Yet, he grew more suspicious as time passed. The clack of Kai's odd heels on the stone path, the chill of mountain air that threatened to creep in didn't seem to reach Frey with how warm Kai was next to him, and it wasn't natural. He'd never known Bretons to be this warm; even other Nords were not this hot in the cold air. He remembered holding Vincent that cold night in the orphanage, warming his cold slender fingers and holding him to block out the cold of that old place. The sudden thought of his old friend and the regret that crept in like a wave, stopped Frey suddenly in his tracks. Kai beside him tensed, his grip of Frey's arm tightening, as if the pressure would spurn him into movement again.

“Frey?”

Frey didn't respond to him, just looked up into his dark eyes with trepidation. They weren't far from Dawnstar now according to the road signs, and Frey was almost certain now that he was walking into some sort of trap. The fear in the eyes of that old woman back at the inn should have been his first clue. Even with all the evils that Kai had described, he somehow felt that her fear streamed from something else. He had a good feeling that something else was Kai. He'd been so consumed by lust back in the inn that he hadn't thought properly. His lust had been like a fog in there, obscuring everything else around him. He'd always been a sucker for a pretty face, but Kai had seemingly consumed his reason with a coy smile and a flash of bare thigh. Now, out here in the cold air, with the unnaturally warm man tugging impatiently on his arm, Frey was beginning to see reason.

“You alright there, handsome?” Kai tried again, clearly trying to keep the irritation from his voice; something Frey could suddenly hear so clearly. Why hadn't he heard the shortness and anger in his voice when they were in the inn? Looking back on it, he must have. Something in him screamed to run. Frey pulled his arm away suddenly, pushing his body away from the warm one beside him. Kai looked confused, his arm still outstretched to where he had been holding Frey. “What's wrong? Getting cold feet?”

“What are you, really?” Frey asked trying to look for an out. Something about Kai screamed danger so he didn't want to risk running back to Markarth. It was quite a run back and he didn't know how fast Kai could actually move. He couldn't scale the mountain to the left of him, nor could he leap from the cliff to the water bellow on the right. The fall may not kill him but the sharp rocks that outcropped on the cliff would most likely catch and tear him on the way down. It left only forward toward Dawnstar to run to with any real chance. Or, he could fight.

Kai's head tilted. “What ever do you mean? I told you who I am.”

Frey kept a grip on his sword handle, not pulling it free of its scabbard yet, but fully prepared to. “I didn't ask who. I asked what. You're not natural.”

Kai looked like he was about to protest but then his dark eyes hardened with a cruelty that almost took Frey by surprise. Deep down he had hoped he was wrong and that this was a misunderstanding, but his senses appeared to be right in this case. Kai's smile seemed malicious as he stepped closer to where Frey had recoiled. “How dreadfully boring of you, yet I am surprised that you saw through me. I was sure I had hooked you at the inn.”

Kai pulled his sword free and pointed it at Kai, his hand firm and steady enough to stop his advance. “Stay back.”

“It's a shame really.” Kai sighed. “We could have done this the fun way and everyone involved would have enjoyed it. You Nords really don't like taking the easy route do you?”

“What do you mean? What do you want from me?” Frey maneuvered himself so his back was toward Dawnstar, ready to turn and run if he needed to. He'd normally never run from a fight like this, with how soft and defenseless Kai appeared, but something in that smile told Frey that Kai was no stranger to taking life.

“Isn't it obvious, Dragonborn?” Kai dropped the act, his stance changing from soft and demure to sly and cunning. “I want you.”

Frey just managed to side step as Kai moved faster than he thought possible, and a glowing, vile green mace flew past his face, slamming into the mountain beside him. Frey could have sworn he heard it hiss at him. The next swing was as quick as the first, smashing against Frey's blade. The force of the blow shook Frey's whole arm, making him lose grip on the sword. It flew somewhere behind his assailant as the mace continued it's momentum. He rolled aside, under an overhead swing, taking only a moment to glance up at his attacker. In that brief moment, Frey saw Kai for what he truly was.

The cloak had come loose, billowing away in the chill mountain air, leaving Kai's body fully exposed. He wore a kilt of some kind, bearing his smooth thighs that pulled into those wicked looking heels of his. His chest armor looked twisted and dark; red glowing in between the gaps of the pitch black breastplate, and yet his body was mostly exposed. His eyes had changed. Instead of a dark brown, the façade had fallen, and they blazed an angry red. His teeth that bared into a crazed snarl were sharp, black horns curled like a ram had sprung from his skull, his crimson red hair pooling around him him, now loose from the braid, and perhaps the most startling of all, was the lizard like tail that flicked between his legs, swaying back and forth with anticipation. He defiantly wasn't an Argonian, and he defiantly shouldn't have a tail!

“WHAT IN OBLIVION ARE YOU?!”

Kai laughed, his surprisingly deep voice was still like silk despite his frightening appearance, and even so he was still beautiful if you could get past the eyes, horns and tail. “Do you honestly think that someone like the Dragonborn could awaken and the Daedra not take notice?” He twirled the mace with ease, moving it as if it was made personally for him, and Frey got a good look at the curled maw that seemed to make up the metal. It oozed evil from every pour and Frey could almost feel the vile corruption from there. He could NOT let that make contact with him. Kai kept his stance but his tail moved up between his legs, hiking his kilt upward so Frey could almost see his crotch. It was clear he wasn't wearing any type of underclothes. Frey noted the tail seemed to be able to grip things. His mind reeled as he tried to form a strategy. “Are you sure we can't do this the easy way? I'd hate to ruin that face of yours.”

“Come closer.” Frey decided, his eyes going hard to show that he wasn't falling for the seduction ploy anymore. “We'll see.”

He could tell by the vicious gleam in Kai's eyes that he too, knew the 'easy way' wasn't going to fly. He raised his mace and charged, and Frey let out the only word of power he knew.

“ _ **FUS!”**_

Kai yelped rather undignified, as he was knocked off his feet and propelled backwards. Frey cursed, not staying to see how far he flew, or going for his fallen blade, and ran toward Dawnstar as fast as he could. He cursed himself for not going to the mountain right away and learning more words of power, because he heard Kai snarl, and the tell-tale clack of his heels bounding down the road close behind him.

Frey wasn't sure how long he ran, but his lungs were burning, and his throat hurt from releasing the shout in a panic. He felt like he could possibly do it again now, with some time having passed in between, but he didn't want to stop to turn and face his pursuer. Kai did seem like he hadn't been able to keep up, despite how fast he had moved to start with. The clack of his heels was further back, but still loud enough to cause Frey distress.

A figure that moved into the road in front of him did not aid matters.

This man had short, extremely blonde hair that it was almost silver, that fell gently into mismatched colored eyes; One was radiant gold eye and one was a stormy violet eye. He was dressed in a fancy suit that seemed more like Breton nobility than the rough dress of Skyrim, but even that had an odd eccentric flair to it. He wore dark purple leather gloved that clutched...a frankly odd looking staff that had faces stuck with open mouths and freakish silent screams.

Frey came to a halt before he got too close, literally stuck between the two men now. He could hear the clack of Kai's heels getting closer behind him, and his window of escape was slowly closing.

“Well now. Isn't this a little sordid affair. I wasn't expecting another dance partner tonight. Oh!” The stranger spoke with a slightly unnerving smile, peering somewhere behind Frey. “Couldn't lure him in, Kai? Thought you were better than this.”

He heard Kai come to a stop behind him, not close enough to touch, but Frey knew it was close enough to lock out escape from that direction. “I am. I think the old lady at the inn tipped him off somehow.”

“And he made you run! How delightfully amusing.”

“Shut up, Sheoth.”

The man named Sheoth laughed, it tipping into something unhinged as he clutched his staff in manic joy. What the fuck was this freak? He did seem more mortal than Kai did, but then again he could be in disguise, just as Kai was earlier. Frey desperately looked for escape. In the distance he could make out the forms of three Vigilantes walking down the road. They wouldn't make it to him in time if he yelled, so he needed to stall for time. All he could hope is that they would move close enough to see that at least one of the men on this road was clearly a monster. 

“Are you Kai's fiancé?” He breathed addressing the man in front of him, trying not to sound as panicked as he felt.

Sheoth blinked almost owlishly. “You told him that, Kai?”

“I saw no reason to hide it.”

He saw the blonde light up as if he was just given a gift. “Why yes. I do suppose I am. I've grown quite fond of him.”

“Fuck you too.”

“Such a sweetheart, isn't he? Full of eloquent manners of speech and sophistication.”

Frey swallowed thickly. “H-How'd you two meet then?”

“What are you doing?” He heard Kai growl, taking a dangerous step closer. Despite clearly having the upper hand, he kept some distance from Frey. “Why do you care?”

“Isn't it obvious, dear heart? He's stalling.” Sheoth laughed. “I do love it when the mortal's know that death is coming. Anything to stop the march of the inevitable, aye?”  
  


“Humor me then?” Frey asked, trying to keep both men distracted as his salvation got closer.

“Sheoth, this is-”

“I'm not beyond granting final requests. Though I do fear it is a simple story and will not take but a moment, Dragonborn.”

A moment was all he needed. “Tell me anyway.”

“Our fathers.” Sheoth said simply, shrugging his shoulders, the smile never leaving his face. “They are... _'close'._ ” He used his fingers to emphasize the word close. “They arranged our union even before we were born.”

“This is idiotic!” Kai interrupted. “I have a black stone. Lets be done with this.”

“I fear my Love grows impatient, Dragonborn. It is time to bid you farewell.”

“ _ **Hey!”**_

Frey could have cried in relief as one of the Vigilant called out to them. Sheoth blinked, his smile not fading but looking almost pleasantly surprised at the new company. “Oh. I see now. The old distraction technique. Quite clever.”

The three Vigilant rushed over, one of them practically screaming in horror when they gazed upon Kai. “MONSTER!” They pulled out their weapons and tried to advance upon them.

“No shit.” Kai growled.

Sheoth grinned, springing into action, not giving them any opportunity to react to his monstrous fiancé. His wicked looking staff twirled and struck the closest vigilant in the chest. With a poof and flash of color, one of the Vigilant...was now a chicken.

Panic erupted from the two remaining Vigilant and Frey felt that fear keenly as he watched a now harmless chicken run away. The chaos seemed to draw all attention and Frey tried to slowly back away. He felt the safe way would be to move past Sheoth, who was laughing maniacally at their raw fear, and try to get to Dawnstar. He'd have to pass dangerously close to the edge of the cliff, but it was the only option. Once he made it to Dawnstar, he could alert the town guard. He'd been hoping these Vigilant were well equipped to fighting monsters and Daedra as they claimed, but the panic and fear on their faces had dashed that hope.

Kai smashed his mace into the face of the next closest foe; the sound of crushing bone and wet gore hitting stone was almost deafening. A flash of light and the body crumbled. Something at Kai's side glowed an eerie purple as the body fell lifeless. The last Vigilant screamed, turning tail and running past Kai as he tried to pull his mace from the depths of his victim's crushed skull. Frey tried to move quietly near the cliff to edge around Sheoth without him noticing.

“Sheoth!”

“I'm on it, sunshine.” Sheoth jogging after the fleeing Vigilant made Frey jump in surprise and his movement caught Kai's eye.

Frey saw blind fury in Kai's eyes as he let go of the mace, leaving it lodged in the dead man's head, and advanced quickly on Frey with an outstretched hand. “Oh no you dont!” Frey tried to break into a run but Kai seized his cloak in his suddenly clawed hands. “You're not getting away from me!”

Luckily he didn't have any of Frey's flesh in his grasp so he tried to twist out of it to escape. He didn't have a weapon and he was clearly against a supernatural opponent. He felt panic claw at his throat and he felt another shout flowing up his throat. He pulled his arms free with effort, and stumbled backwards, his legs finding open air under him, as he must have twirled too close to the ledge in his blind panic. He let the panicked _**“FUS”**_ erupt from his throat, propelling his own body away from the cliff edge, hoping to avoid the sharp rock. He tried not to lock up as he hit the cold water below him, but the impact rocked his body with pain. He hit the bottom of the lake with the velocity in which he fell, his head hitting something sharp. Darkness blurred his vision and he fell helpless to it as the current pulled him away.

**Author's Note:**

> Ah, the Vigilant of Stendarr. 
> 
> My favorite thing in that game is being loaded up with Daedric artifacts and passing them in that same area. "Watch out for Daedra worshipers." And me just being like, okey.


End file.
